


A Heart to Heart under the Moonlight

by orphan_account



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Other, Sibling Bonding, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Violet and Klaus are young adults and have resumed normal, post-VFD lives in the City. However, not everything is as it seems...Rated M for self-harm, attempted suicide and general heavy angst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weeping_Writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weeping_Writer/gifts), [bookish_sister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_sister/gifts).



Klaus Baudelaire sat upon a windowsill of his house, quietly sipping tea. Although the sun had long since set and his siblings retired to bed, his restless mind could not be quieted. As he imbibed in his bitter teacup and contemplated the vast constellations hanging in the dusty atmosphere of the City, his train of thought was interrupted by the patter of footsteps on the mahogany panel floor. He turned quickly, afraid of who or what might be lurking at such a late hour, only to find his sister walking towards him.

“Klaus, shouldn’t you get some sleep?” Violet suggested.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus apologized. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I just wondered where you were and couldn’t find you in your bedroom.”

Klaus was silent for a while. He was not only lost in his own thoughts, but trapped in a straitjacket of anxiety.

“Hey, is everything alright?” his sister asked. She laid a hand on his shoulders, and tears welled up in Klaus’ eyes.

He slightly shook his head as he laid down his teacup.

“I’m burdened by guilt, Vi,” he said softly. “All the things we did to survive under Olaf, was it worth it?”

The eldest Baudelaire sat beside her brother and held his hands, trying to console him. 

“Of course it was. We survived, and have a normal life again. Our records have been expunged, we have a house again and we’re philanthropists.”

“That’s the problem,” Klaus said, trying to hide his growing anger. “We thought we were in for a normal life until Mr. Poe told us that our parents had perished in a blaze that destroyed our home. How long do we have until everything we’ve worked towards is blown away as so many ashes in the wind?”

“If that happens, we’ll survive and start over,” Violet said calmly. “We’ve defied the odds before.”

“Are you crazy?” Klaus nearly yelled. “We almost died on several occasions and I still get flashbacks to other traumatic events we’ve endured. We can’t go through that again, and I don’t mean just because of how Sunny and Bea deserve better. I’d rather die.”

Violet gasped sharply. “Klaus! Don’t say things like that!”

Klaus simply rolled his eyes. He knew the hypocrisy of his sister’s admonition. After all, he had seen her cutting at her wrists with a penknife on multiple occasions. 

“Oh really?” he said sarcastically. “Then what’s that on your arms? Come on, lift up your sleeves.”

The eldest Baudelaire blushed furiously and angrily shoved her brother away.

“That’s not the same!!” she cried. “Why do you make my life so difficult, Klaus?”

“I see,” he huffed in response. “I’m just a chore to be around. Just what I thought.”

“No, no,” Violet murmured regretfully. “Oh God, why did I say that.” The eldest Baudelaire began sobbing gently into the sleeves of her nightgown. Several recent scars reopened, trickling blood through the fabric.

“Violet, your arms!” Klaus exclaimed. “I’m sorry I upset you, but can we please head to the kitchen so we can get some bandages?”

The eldest Baudelaire nodded, whimpering slightly as the pain was finally registered by her brain.

The two walked down the stairs, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window they had just been sitting at. Luckily, it was a full moon that night with only a few cirrus clouds punctuating the nocturne yonder. Violet sat down at the dining table while Klaus retrieved and applied gauze from their first aid kit. Violet cringed as the pre-soaked antiseptic burned her dermal nerves.

“Please be a bit more gentle, Klaus,” she winced.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” he replied. “If you had treated these cuts sooner, they wouldn’t hurt as much now.”

Violet considered taking offense to her brother’s remark, but decided against it. After all, he was right. Instead, she wanted to clear the atmosphere of tension swirling between herself and her siblings as of late.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you,” she said quietly. “I guess you were bound to find out sooner or later.”

“I understand,” Klaus said, gently layering the gauze. “I’ve had struggles of my own. Can I tell you about one if you promise you won’t get mad?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“A few weeks ago, I felt so terrified of my flashbacks that I felt that I had no choice but to end it. I swallowed a bunch of painkillers at once. What an irony, because that was probably the most painful moment of my life.”

“You WHAT?!” Violet shrieked. She jerked forward violently, as if she was about to tackle her brother, but stopped as soon as she remembered the pain of her wounds.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t get mad,” Klaus reminded her.

Violet collected herself and sat back down. “I was shocked, not angry,” she explained. “But why didn’t you tell me before doing something so drastic?”

Klaus simply shrugged as he cut the last strip of gauze. “I didn’t think you would understand the severity of my predicament. When you’re in a hole that deep, you can only see darkness above, even if it’s full noon.”

Violet nodded, and leaned forward to hug her brother.

“Please, let’s talk about this. I don’t want to have another close call.”

“Me neither.”


	2. The Week Prior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short prequel to the events of the first chapter, in which Klaus first discovers his sister cutting herself.

It was a warm, cloudless Thursday afternoon, but Klaus Baudelaire was occupied with more pressing matters than enjoying the weather. The youngest children of the family, Sunny and Beatrice Junior, had not yet arrived home from school, and Klaus wished to conclude as many errands as he could before he had to attend to theirs’. Currently, he was drafting an editorial in defense of Jacques Snicket that he intended to send to his friend and Chief Editor of the Daily Punctilio, Duncan Quagmire.

“In conclusion, the mere physical appearance of a man can not be a basis for his condemnation,” he typed. “On this solemn occasion, the anniversary of his death, let us remember not only the travesty of the waste of innocent life, but also --”

The middle Baudelaire groaned in frustration as his typewriter ribbon jammed once more. Instead of attempting his own makeshift repairs for the umpteenth time, he decided to call upon Violet’s expertise. He rose from his oxblood leather chair and walked swiftly from the study towards his sister’s bedroom.

“Violet, can you help me with the typewriter?” he called out. “It’s jammed again, and I’m not sure if it’s something I did to it.”

There was no answer from the bedroom, which was rather unusual. Whenever the eldest Baudelaire neglected to answer, she was presumably absorbed in inventing or reading. In these instances, her room would have echoed with the clanging of mallets or the grinding of gears or even the rustling of pages, but it was currently silent. Unperturbed, Klaus decided to enter.

“I’m coming in, Vi,” he announced as he turned the polished brass doorknob. When Klaus entered, he found to his confusion that the her bed was in complete disarray. The sheets lay scrunched in a corner, while her pillows were ripped, spilling down all over the bedding. 

“What happened here?” Klaus wondered. “Violet is usually neat and orderly with her belongings.”

Cautiously, the middle Baudelaire approached her en-suite bathroom on the opposite side of the room. The white laminate door was slightly ajar, but not enough that he could assess the situation from a distance. From an oblique angle, he peered through the crack of the door and into the vanity mirror. To his horror, Violet was grasping her prized pen knife tightly in her right hand and letting it fall upon her left. Streaks of deep crimson blood lined her forearm and wrists, as if furrows on a snowy field. Klaus froze in terror.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly through gritted teeth. “I’m okay. No matter what they say.”

Tears welled up uncontrollably in Klaus’ eyes. “Is this what she’s been doing to herself?” he thought to himself. “How long has she been doing this?”

Although the male Baudelaire was deeply concerned for his sister’s welfare, he simply didn’t know how to help her. Despite his vast recollection of first aid treatments and psychotherapeutic methods, he did not find the eloquence or courage within himself to intervene.

“Not now,” he murmured to himself as he quietly slunk out. “But I will talk to her when I can. Hang on, Vi.”


End file.
